


Bruises and Broken Bones

by Lemon (lemon_sprinkles)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 05:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemon_sprinkles/pseuds/Lemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renly never expected his first time in bed with Loras to be him cradling him as he worked through the extreme pain that racked his body; he never thought he would be completely clothed while Loras would be bare saved for the bandages around his torso and sweats brought on by pain; and he certainly never thought that it would be in the middle of the day, the only kiss they’d share a chaste one with chapped lips and breath that tasted faintly of milk of the poppy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bruises and Broken Bones

 Renly did not see it happen, but he heard the impact.

 Sitting near the training grounds, he was speaking with the Master at Arms, conversing about the different boys who were training at Storm’s End while enjoying the warm air that caressed their faces as the wind from the sea blew in. Renly tried not to steer the conversation too much towards his squire, Loras, but could not help but ask how he was doing just as the young man was busy practicing jousting in the field.

 The thunder of horses’ hooves and the crack of lances carried through the conversation, Renly occasionally allowing his attention to go to the grounds anytime he caught sight of Loras on his dappled mare. The Master at Arms seemed oblivious to Renly’s distracted nature, and continued on as if his lord was not smiling and staring at the Tyrell with more admiration than most maids held for the knights in glittering armour. It was hard to not be taken by the site—Loras became something else when he was practicing jousting, as if he was not a young man but a god of war, ready and willing to smash and destroy and conquer. Renly had lusted after Loras for some time, but it wasn’t until his squire had kissed him that anything began between the two of them. They’d only kissed, but it was enough to cause Renly to become even more infatuated with the boy. He wanted all of Loras at all times—to touch him and kiss and be with him completely.  Instead of receiving all of those things, though, he was subject to watching Loras and admire from afar most days—such as today.

“Not all of them are ready, of course, but a few I think could learn to wield a real blade. Soon some of the other boys will be knighted, so it’s best to move on with the others who are just beginning.” The Master at Arms was a rough man, course hands and a gravelly voice adding years to him. Renly had no idea how old the man actual was, but he remembered him from when he was a child, Storm’s End newly his and most of those who worked the Keep newer still. He had been trained by the man and valued his opinion—especially when it came to matters he was only mildly interested in. Like sword fighting and jousting.

 Nodding in agreement to his statement, Renly was about to speak when he heard the unmistakable sound of the lance cracking and the crash of armour down on to the dirt. There was cheering from a few men, and Renly glanced over his shoulder to see a familiar training suit of armour in the dust, a few people standing around Loras as he lay prone on the ground.

 Smiling, Renly raised a brow, honestly surprised to see him down on the ground. But when he didn’t move right away, and the men around him began to ask if he was alright, Renly quickly lost the smile. “Excuse me,” he mumbled as he stood and strode towards the field, attempting to mask his worry with a sense of purpose.

 Loras was probably just dazed—best not think of the worst, no matter how easy it was. Jousting was a terribly dangerous sport, one that Renly had never found the lust for. He’d seen how easy it was for a knight to lose it all from a single tilt. When he was only ten, he’d seen the splinter of a lance go through the thin strip on a helm and straight into the knight’s eye. But it did not kill him quickly, but left him in agony for days as the socket that once held an eye festered and grew infected, leaving him a withering mess until the sweet embrace of death finally took hold. Renly still remembered how the man _screamed,_ and attempted to rip the wood from his eye, clawing, grasping and screaming and screaming and screaming.

 But still, men continued to joust—including Renly—despite the risks and the dangers. Perhaps that was what kept most knights going; the thrill and the excitement that they’d evaded death one more time, doing something that should have claimed their souls long ago.

 As he walked through the dirt and towards the scene, Renly swallowed the wad of spit that clung to his mouth, trying to get the screaming of the man out of his head as he neared. As soon as they saw their lord, the boys surrounding Loras moved aside, although a few seemed hesitant.

 “There is no need to worry, my lord—we can help him—“ Renly’s waved the boy off as he knelt down beside Loras, a steady hand going out to touch his metal encased shoulder. The visor of his helm had been flipped up, and Loras lay staring up at the sky, hazel eyes dazed and clouded with pain. His breathing was laboured, as if every breath was painful, and Renly resisted the urge to reach out and cup the man’s face.

 “Are you alright?” he asked rather lamely. His voice seemed to snap Loras from is stupor, and he looked up at Renly, sucking in a laboured breath.

 “I think… I broke a rib…” he grunted out.

 Cringing, Renly looked around and locked eyes with a small boy—spry and quick, no doubt. “You—go and find the Maester and bring him down here. Tell him we might have some broken ribs.” The boy nodded and was off as quickly as Renly has suspected he could move, dodging between others who were coming towards the scene in the field. Ignoring the questions flying about, Renly concentrated on Loras who seemed to be in more pain as the seconds ticked by.

 It broke Renly’s heart to see him in any discomfort, but masked his own distress by trying to smile. It was weak, but there, and he kept his hand on his shoulder, metal warming under his grasp.

 “I… haven’t been… unhorses in some time…” Loras gasped out, cringing at the end.

 “Don’t speak, you fool,” Renly replied, remarkably calm—a surprise, even to himself. Loras did as he was told, and remained still on the ground as the Maester finally appeared. Renly loathed to leave Loras, but allowed to be lead away as the Maester asked some of the boys to grab a stretcher and help him get Loras on it. Renly stood off to the side, watching helplessly as they loaded Loras on to it, a painful gasp heard as he was moved to a sitting position for a brief moment.

 Definitely a broken rib—perhaps more than one. Still, Renly remained calm, showing no outward fear despite wishing to ring his hands or bite his lip or even weep like a woman. It was not until Loras was taken away that Renly looked around at the men surrounding him. Most of them were younger than he, all of them training at Storm’s End but none of them his squire—his confidant and his friend. They looked at him with a bit of aw that their lord was before them. Renly saw one of the boys staring at his now dirtied knees from kneeling on the ground, and he resisted the urge to brush away the dirt.

 “Who was he tilting against?” he asked, eying the group. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to know—the boy who was against him must have been a fair jouster and was just doing what he’d been trained to do. Knowing who did it meant little, and yet…

 “I was, my lord.” One of the boys in the suits of armour stepped forward, hair plastered to his face from sweat, cheeks red and puffy both from exertion and embarrassment. “I don’t know what happened, my lord. We were just jousting regular like, and I hit him and he went down on his side.”

 “I think he broke his ribs when he landed!” another said, causing all around them to snicker.

 “Of course he broke them when he _landed_ …” was whispered by one of them through the laughter.

 The laughter did little to ease Renly’s nerves. It was rare for Renly to lose his composed appearance, having been trained to keep in control and courteous, despite his true feelings on the matter. Being so open with your emotions in the courts was dangerous and foolish—a liability in a world that was already tense. But the laughter and the knowledge that Loras was in pain and he could do little to ease his troubles made Renly snap at the boys. “You’re fellow squire is in pain and all you can do it laugh?” he asked, voice raised above the others. Immediately they all stopped laughing and turned their attention to their young lord. A few looked sheepish, while some stared at him with raised brows. “Next time you break a few bones and are in pain, I hope that your friends here would laugh at you. Show a bit of respect for Loras.”

 He didn’t wait for any of them to reply before striding off towards the Keep, forgetting about his meeting with the Master at Arms. Loras’ fall and the look of pain on his features was all he could think about, and talk of training and weapon upkeep was the furthest thing from his mind.

XX

 Renly had wandered through the hallways all day, finding himself unable to sit down for too long, word of Loras’ condition having not reached him for some time. Instead of attempting to write out letters or speak to anyone who needed his attention, he spent the day wandering aimlessly, listening to his boots on the stonework and the whistle of wind through the cracks in the walls and the open windows. The more the day dragged without word of Loras, the more Renly began to fret, his mind conjuring up the worst things possible.

 What if Loras hadn’t broken a rib, but done more damage than thought? What if he was bleeding inside his body and there was no cure but leeches? What if he knocked his head so hard he no longer remembered who he was? What if he’d died?

 The last one was completely irrational for him to think of, and yet it continued to linger at the back of his mind, refusing to shake loose. It only grew worse as the sun began to set and there was still nothing from the Maester.

 Eventually, impatience and worry drove him to Loras’ room at the Keep as the sun had set and the calming blue glow of dusk wrapped itself around Storm’s End and its inhabitants. As he approached the door, he noticed that no one was around at all, the hallway eerily silent. Dred crept along Renly’s spine in that instant and he stumbled towards the door, horrific images of Loras’ corpse flashing through his mind as he ripped open the large wooden door and barged into the silent room.

  “Loras?” Renly called out almost immediately, forgetting that if he was in the room and he was alive, he was probably trying to sleep. Still, Renly would rather have Loras angry at him than dead. The room was warm and inviting, candles having been light long ago to add to the relaxing atmosphere. A bit of incense burned in the corner along with a small fire in the fireplace. One of the shutters on the window was open, letting the continual breeze from the ocean carry in, making it easier to breath despite the smell of herbs and salves.

 Loras was on the bed in the middle of the room, lying on what Renly presumed was his good side. He did not say anything when Renly barged in, but Renly could clearly tell he was alive, judging by the glare he was receiving overtop the blankets that shrouded his bruised body.

 “What?” Loras mumbled. His voice was soft and slow, as if he was on milk of the poppy. He probably was, given the slightly distant look in his hazel eyes.

 Renly was going to make a remark about how Loras was being a bit rude, but brushed it aside as he soaked in the sight of Loras being _alive. “_ How are you feeling?” he asked, closing the door softly before approaching the bed. The little grunt he replied, followed by a wince, told Renly all he needed to know.

 “In a bit of pain… milk of the poppy is helping,” Loras explained slowly, obviously finding it painful to speak. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Renly reached out to tuck a curl behind his ear, feeling the soft skin under his fingertips. The gentle touch made Loras smile softly as he looked up at Renly. Renly thought he looked adorable—slightly confused and eyes bleary, but a smile that light up the room. “Why are you here?”

 “I was worried,” Renly admitted, brushing his knuckles along the side of Loras’ jaw. “The Maester never told me of your condition—in fact, no one told me. I wanted to come see you…”

 “I didn’t want to see you,” Loras drawled out, making Renly’s eyebrows furrow. Loras was incredibly rude under the effects of milk of the poppy, it seemed.

 “Am I disturbing you?” he asked, retracting his hand slowly.

 Loras released a soft puff of air, shifting carefully so he could rest his head against the pillow once more. Eyes closing, he left Renly wondering if he’d fallen asleep before he spoke again. “No… ‘s not what I meant. I didn’t want you to see me like this… you’d worry.”

 Rolling his eyes, Renly once again resumed his gentle caresses, and ran his hand gently through Loras’ tangled curls. Touching Loras like this was still relatively new and exciting for Renly, and he tried to keep himself in check as he soothed him as best he could. He could tell that even with the milk of the poppy he was in some discomfort, breathing slow and unsteady, as if every breath was like cracking his rib all over again. “I was going to be worried, regardless. I just wanted to make sure you were alright—seeing if for myself was the best way… besides… this way I can attempt to relax you, even though I have no idea what I’m doing.”

 “My mother would brush my hair when I was upset…” Loras replied, eyes still closed. Smiling, Renly continued to card his fingers through, massaging the back of his skull gently. That made Loras relax further under his touch, lips parting slightly as he breathed through his mouth. “I haven’t been hurt jousting before…”

 It was true—he hadn’t. Yes, Loras had sustained bruises and the occasional cut from the armour (it was to be expected), and he’d knocked his head a few times during training, but nothing substantial. Everyone thought Loras was just inherently lucky for not getting a few broken bones or cuts that left scars, but it appeared as if even a Tyrell’s luck could run out eventually. Unfortunately for Loras, it came at the cost of a broken rib or two.

 “Did you break your rib?” he asked, and received no reply. Eying Loras, he tried to see if he was asleep or just slowing down even further. When nothing was said for a while, Renly suspected the milk of the poppy had done its work and put Loras to sleep. Standing, Renly shifted the blankets slightly and looked under the folds to see a strip of white bandages wrapped firmly around his entire chest, the smell of herbs pungent. He broke at least one, Renly surmised as he tucked the blankets around Loras gently.

 Renly was entirely too relieved that Loras was alive and somewhat well, and knew that soon enough he would be complaining about not being able to ride a horse or go train for a time. As soon as he started to complain, Renly knew he would be well on his way to recovery.

 Still, while the knowledge that Loras was going to be alright helped to pacify some of his worries, Renly could not shake the unease that continued to grip him. This was a close call—a reminder of the dangers of the sport. While Renly did not spook easily, the thought that Loras had been harmed made him feel sick. He wanted to protect his squire and his friend, which was an odd notion—wanting to protect a man who was sent to Storm’s End in order to train to kill and harm others. Knights were, by definition, trained warriors who were supposed to be put in places of danger. It was what they did—it was their purpose. But Renly didn’t like the thought of Loras coming into any harm.

 It was a frustrating position, and one that Renly had tried to avoid thinking about for as long as possible. But this accident brought it all back to him. Loras would most likely sustain far worse injuries over the course of his (hopefully) long life, and Renly was going to have to accept that and support Loras. Just as Loras supported him whenever he donned his armour and rode his charger down the track.

 He realized he’d been staring for some time, and snapped his gaze from Loras’ peaceful face to move down and apply a gentle kiss to his temple. Leaving Loras to rest, Renly ran a hand through his hair as soon as he was out of the room, the door shut and with it the smell of medical herbs and thick incense gone from his senses.

 He needed to have a conversation with his Maester about not informing him of very important details…

XX

 “I feel as if I fell off of a mountain, hit every stone and boulder on my way down, before landing in a pile of horse shit… and was then stepped on by the horse whose shit I landed in.”

 That was the first thing Loras said to Renly when he visited him in the morning. Hair a tangled mess, lips chapped, bags under his eyes, and a foul expression on his face, Loras was lying in the same position Renly had left him, only the blankets had been pushed back, revealing his bandaged torso. He looked terrible, and yet Renly couldn’t have been more happy to see him. Even at his worst he still looked radiant.

 “That wasn’t very nice of the horse,” Renly mused, smiling as he pulled the chair from beside Loras’ writing desk to rest beside the bed. Draping himself casually on the chair, he leaned forward to stare at Loras, their eyes level with one another.

 “It’s one of the horses those Martells breed—they’re all rotten fucks,” Loras grumbled, and Renly had to refrain from being too shocked at the foul language coming from Loras’ mouth. He was under… extreme circumstances. It was awfully cute, however.

 “I take it you’ve run out of milk of the poppy?” he asked, reaching out to take Loras’ hand in his own. Loras’ fingers automatically curled around Renly’s, and the two shared a smile before Loras was once again frowning.

 “I did not want anymore. The Maester tried to shove some down my throat this morning and I refused—it leaves me too addled and groggy.”

 “Nothing wrong with that.”

 “Except I could easily inform anyone of our relationship because I cannot keep my thoughts in order.”

 Renly grimaced at that, and stroked Loras’ knuckles in his thumb. “True… I’m sorry, Loras.”

 Loras attempted to shrug, but the stretch of muscles along his side obviously caused discomfort, and instead let out a soft grunt. “Don’t fret…” he mumbled as Renly stood up and began to do just that—fret.

 “Is there anything I could do? Anything I can help with? Did you want to move? Get in a better position?” He knew he was asking so many questions, but seeing Loras in so much discomfort that was partially brought on by their relationship caused Renly to begin to feel guilty, and when he felt guilty he began to look for a way to fix it.

 “Just lie down with me?”

  Renly paused. It was such a simple, innocent request. Lie down beside him and offer him some comfort—there was nothing complicated about it. Only it was complicated—it was terribly complicated. It was the middle of the day and he had things to see to; people to speak with and lordly duties to complete. If he was gone for too long, they’d no doubt go looking for him. To find him in bed with his squire would raise suspicion. As well, they’d only just begun their relationship—both of them still attempting to sort out the complications that came with such a forbidden desire. Loras was bold and forward with most of his advances, but even he knew that they had to be careful with how they proceeded, their reputation and their standing on the line.

 Renly hated that it had to be this complicated. Most would have gladly crawled into bed with their female companion had she asked of it. Most would have been able to lie in bed and soothe the aches of their loved one with no questions asked if they were to be discovered. But Renly and Loras weren’t like most—a blessing and a curse.

 “I… Loras…”

 “For just a moment—I am not asking for the entire day. Just a little while, until I fall asleep?”

 Sighing, Renly attempted to resist the pout on his squire’s features, and instead inspected the swirled patterns on the bedding. When Loras let out a small huff, Renly rolled his eyes even as he moved to take his boots off. “Only a moment,” he mumbled as Loras smiled triumphantly up at him. Pulling the sheets back, Renly noticed that Loras was completely naked, and attempted to keep calm as he crawled into bed with him.

 He had fantasies about being in bed with Loras deliciously nude. He never thought it would happen like this.

 As soon as he was lying, he rolled over and let Loras press in close, a grunt against his neck as he slowly shifted closer until their bodies were pressed together. Wrapping his arms around Loras’ shoulders, he cradled him gently, treating the man as if he was made of glass. Loras immediately pressed his face against Renly’s shirt, breathing in his perfumed scent. Loras’ curls tickled Renly’s nose, but he did not mind the irritation as the realization that he was holding Loras in his arms took hold.

 It felt wonderful, really. The press of Loras against him, the way his arms rose and fell with every slow, careful breath, the way Loras fit so perfectly against him—it was all… _amazing_. Renly could not really form a single, cohesive thought that would describe how good it felt. It wasn’t at all how he’d imagined a scene like this would play out. When he began to fantasize about Loras he always imagined their first time in bed would be a passionate tryst—all naked, sweaty limbs and hungry mouths. Then, when he realized that Loras was interested in him, the fantasy changed to more of a careful exploration of each other’s bodies, one filled with gentle touches and kisses mixed with smiles.

 He never expected his first time in bed with Loras to be him cradling him as he worked through the extreme pain that racked his body; he never thought he would be completely clothed while Loras would be bare saved for the bandages around his torso and sweats brought on by pain; and he certainly never thought that it would be in the middle of the day, the only kiss they’d share a chaste one with chapped lips and breath that tasted faintly of milk of the poppy.

 And yet here they were. Despite the pain that seemed to pervade Loras’ form, the two shared a moment that, while wasn’t what either had expected it would be like, was perfect in its own little way.  

 “Thank you…” Loras mumbled eventually, his voice soft and lazy. He was falling asleep again.

 “You’re welcome… I’m sure you would have done the same for me, Loras.”

 Loras hummed. “Your squire would be obligated to sit with you… But as your lover, it would have been my honour.”

 Renly smiled, the word ‘lover’ sounding sweet in his ear. Perhaps this was what love was. Finding yourself so involved in another person that their pain was your pain, and the only comfort one could ever receive was from that special person. Loras’ happiness and well-being had become Renly’s, their lives inextricably linked now. More so than when they were simply squire and lord—a duty rather than an emotional bond. Renly found it both humbling and exciting and terrifying and thrilling all at the same time. He could certainly get used to being Loras’ support…

 More to the point, he could get used to being his _lover’s_ support.


End file.
